


Another Brick In the Wall

by ErisianDiva78



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Snark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-06 17:37:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErisianDiva78/pseuds/ErisianDiva78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After John is punished for a bust gone wrong, he and Dorian learn that Insyndicate are planning a massive take-over of the city. (Summary kinda sucks, sorry)  Mentions of child abuse/slavery, snark, violence</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've become utterly and wholeheartedly addicted to Almost Human. Having been a fan of Karl's for many years, this was just another fun foray into his awesome. UnBeta'd, so all errors are mine. Hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After John is punished for a bust gone wrong, he and Dorian learn that Insyndicate are planning a massive take-over of the city. (Summary kinda sucks, sorry) Mentions of child abuse/slavery, snark, violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've become utterly and wholeheartedly addicted to Almost Human. Having been a fan of Karl's for many years, this was just another fun foray into his awesome. UnBeta'd, so all errors are mine. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Update: Edited a bit and added more goodness to the chapters. Enjoy!

**Another Brick In the Wall**

 

Chapter One

  
  
Waking up in his apartment, Detective John Kennex half-expected it to be just another day. He really did. Of course, that was his pre-coffee brain, realizing that he was waking up on the first day off of many following a suspension began to crowd into his brain. A suspension that was wrongly dumped on him. An investigation was pending and the outcome would determine his return to the precinct. Or release.

Fuck.

It was two days 'til Christmas.

' _Focus on something else.'_ He silently chided, dragging his ass out of bed. Anything but the suspension. Anything but the absolute shitstorm that had been the investigation. His guilt was already a noose around his neck. He hopped to the charging station for his prosthetic, then poured himself a cup of coffee and did what Kennex did best. 

He ignored it. 

So why was it raining instead of snowing? It was damned sure cold enough to snow, at least as far as John was concerned. Whenever he ventured out on a case or off to the coffee shop, his breath puffed out in little white clouds and he tugged his coat closer to his sturdy frame. It was a vain attempt to keep himself all the warmer, without bundling up in an honest-to-god winter coat. John had one, of course. He'd done his stint in the military and earned himself a really nice winter coat. Nicer than one that could be purchased in the private sector. Thick and warm, it was designed to keep someone protected from the elements in the wilds of Alaska. And since John was one of those unlucky bastards who suffered from woefully poor circulation, having the thickness of the coat had been a bit of a godsend.  When the weather proved utterly foul and unforgiving, he'd burrow into the depths of the coat that was large, even on his body, and glare balefully out at the world.  The only drawback to such a luxurious bit of military genius, was the designers clearly hadn't had a detective in the line of fire, in mind.  He could go around armed, but quick movement was damned near impossible.  He'd learned quickly, and the coat bore the signs of needing to be patched after one too many firefights, that he needed something smaller and easier to maneuver in.  
  
But he was home. ' _Back on that again, are we?'_ It was the first day off of many, and he wasn't feeling in the slightest bit social. Instead, he was sitting at his bar, gazing out at the city beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The grey, bleak, overcast city that seemed to be covered in a hazy mist of rain. Fucking depressing.  It matched his mood.  John snorted over his umpteenth cup of coffee and smirked at the idea of being poetic. His gaze dropped to the girls for a heartbeat and he had to tear his eyes away from them. Definitely not the day to dust either of them off.  His fear, in that moment, was that he would pick up one of the girls and promptly smash them into bits on the floor of his apartment.  Fucking insulting, the suspension.  He still questioned it, though he was awaiting Dorian's arrival to learn more surrounding it.  There were too many holes in the excuse.  Too many reasons why he  _should_ be at work and not sitting on his ass being morose.  
  
His mood matched the day, and rightfully so. Perfect for not interacting with others. So he watched the droplets of rain cascading down the glass, meeting with other droplets and becoming fat and crystalline against the clear panes. It really was beautiful, if he allowed himself the moment to appreciate it. Slowly, he stood and made his way to the windows, gazing out. Far below, he watched last minute shoppers moving to and fro, giving thugs and criminals yet more targets to attack. His post-Christmas duties should have been full to overflowing with the stupidity of humanity. Petty jealousy, theft, murder over someone having something nicer... the list was endless.  But no, he was on extended ' _paid leave, pending further investigation and council review.''_   Which essentially meant he wasn't to even set foot on the same  _block_ as the precinct.  
  
John scrubbed a hand through his already impressive bedhead and leaned his shoulder against the cool wood surrounding the window. He sipped at his coffee and just pondered life. From the corner of his eye, he could see the single Christmas decoration that graced his spacious apartment.  Dorian had been insistent upon bringing a small tree to his apartment for the holidays. He'd called it a way to " _see how humans celebrated the holidays._ " It twinkled merrily from its little stand in the corner. Yes, John remembered to plug it in every morning, leaving it for Dorian to see whenever they happened past the apartment. Not much, but it was something. It still did little to warm his Grinch-like heart. Holidays always reminded him of what he'd lost. Of what he'd never have again. Of the emptiness that seemed ever-present in his soul.  
  
He was just getting started on the list of those who had left him, or betrayed him, when the door chimed.  The only person he could think of that would dare come to see him in the state of angst he was currently residing, was Dorian.  It was morbidly funny that he kept referring to Dorian as a person, but the android  _was_ his partner.  And a damned sight better than some of the humans he worked with.   John crossed the distance from the windows to the door, bare feet making little sound, and peeked through the peep hole.  Sure enough, there stood Dorian.  The android waited patiently for John to answer, though no doubt, he'd felt the vibrations of John's movement within.  Slowly, John opened the door and peeked out. Force of habit.  Make sure the hallway was clear before admitting anyone into the interior.  He almost laughed at that.  For the time being, he was a private citizen, albeit a disgraced one.  
  
"John."  Dorian pulled him from his reverie, still standing in the hallway. He looked far too amused.  "You gonna invite me in?  Or are we discussing this out here?"  
  
John rolled his eyes and stepped aside, pulling the door open as he moved out of Dorian's way.  "Smart ass.  Tell me you got something?"  He made it a question, though he didn't feel like asking for much.  When Maldonado had read him the riot act in her office and had him escorted from the premises, the bottom of his stomach had dropped out and he'd put up every wall he'd dared let come down.  And then some.  For once in his life, he'd allowed Dorian to drive him back to the apartment.  Okay, let was a strong word.  Dorian had to return the patrol car to the precinct, so escorting John to his apartment  had been a given.  
  
"What, no 'Hi Dorian. How was your day, Dorian?'"  The DRN snarked, mimicking John's voice to an eerie degree.  John glowered at him as he shut the door, and Dorian smirked.  "Yes, as a matter of fact I  _do_ have some information.  But you're not going to like it."  
  
John groaned softly and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.  Dorian had been there less than five minutes and he was already giving John a massive migraine.  Great.  "Tell me somethin' I don't know, genius.  Alright.  Lay it on me..."  It was four words he would later come to regret.  
  
"Well, you were right."  Dorian didn't add  _amazingly,_ though it was obvious he was thinking it.  John waved a hand, gesturing the DRN to get on with it.  Dorian shook his head and started into the living room, pausing to gaze at the small tree.  "You plugged it in, John."  He turned and smiled, a genuinely happy smile.  
  
"Yeah, I plugged it in.  I told you I would.  Now would you get on with what you found?  I'm sitting on my ass in my apartment 'cause some fucktard decided to make me the walking scapegoat."  And he hadn't even put pants on all day.  He'd been wandering, in full view of his windows, in shorts and a singlet.  But really, why bother?  The depression had settled like a shroud over his shoulders and he really didn't care  _what_ he looked like to an outsider.  He just wanted his damned information.  The sooner he could find out who it was so he could beat them into a bloody pulp and go back to work.  
  
Dorian was still gazing at the tree, the blue lights on his face lighting up to process the information.  "You really need to find a hobby, John.  And you need a shower..."  He turned, expression a little sheepish.  "We're not going to discuss the back-up.."  
  
"No, we're not.  And if you don't get on with it already, I'm going to toss you out one of my windows.  Merry fucking Christmas."  John growled, advancing slowly.  
  
"Alright, sheesh..."  Colloquialisms were in full force it seemed.  "Though if you need someone to dust off the guitars.."

"Dorian..."  There was a veiled warning in his tone.  _No one_ touched the girls but John.  
  
The DRN turned and crossed his arms over his chest.  "The boy you shot pulled through."  Relief visibly replaced the frustration on John's face.  "Turns out he's not the first child to be recruited by Insyndicate.  He's just the first to have been caught."  
  
And no wonder.  No one wanted to shoot a child.  No one wanted to injure someone who had so much life ahead of them.  John had been careful, aiming for a non-vital part of the boy's body, but he'd warred with himself after that.  And guilt of that magnitude, on top of the reaming by Maldonado, John was a mess.  "Did he give names of other mules?"  
  
Dorian shook his head.  "Not exactly. The boy verified that it was children, all of them.  Insyndicate's banking on our inability to injure children.  So they're kidnapping them.  Six more missing children in the last two weeks.  Stahl's been questioning the boy, but she was kind enough to share her findings with me.  She doesn't believe that you were any more responsible than I do."  
  
He didn't say it aloud, but John was secretlyrelieved to hear that.  There were actually detectives within the precinct who didn't immediately want to see him strung out for a firing squad.  The shock, though, at being thrown under the bus by Maldonado was the thing that hurt the worst.  She'd gone out on a limb to put him back into active duty.  Even after the psych eval.  And now that...  
  
"John.  I think there's more, but we don't have any concrete evidence."  Dorian was saying, pulling John from his maudlin thoughts.  
  
"Like what?  What  _more_ can there be?"  He sipped his cooling coffee, making a face.  Damn.  He'd let it get too cold.  He turned and made his way to the coffee pot to refill and warm up what he already had.  
  
"Following patterns is something I do."  Dorian said, slowly following John.  He stayed somewhat close to the Christmas tree, as if afraid it would vanish if he moved too far away from it.  "This is somewhat reminiscent of our time in the Sanderson Building.  Call it a hunch..."  John snorted at that, though Dorian ignored it.  "But it just seems as though someone needed a distraction."  
  
Which meant one thing:  they needed John out of the way.  And what better way than an extended suspension?  
  
"Okay.. say you're right.  Say they needed a distraction and me out of the way..."  John was trying to follow Dorian's train of thought, not liking the destination.  "For what reason?  The other detectives in the building are just as capable as I am."  Some more than he was, given his limitations.  "It doesn't make any sense that they'd single meout."  
  
"John, don't you get it?"  Dorian pressed.  "Christmas.  There's going to be a skeleton crew the night of.  You would have volunteered to work, I know you.  If you're not there, they have to bring in someone else.  The MXs are going to be down below, mostly recharging for the night."  
  
Son of a bitch, Dorian was right.  John volunteered for every holiday, and had, for years.  Birthday, Christmas, Thanksgiving, it didn't matter.  Anna had been the only one who could have talked him out of working holidays to spend time with her.  _Anna._ Jesus, was this some kind of misguided attempt to keep him out of harm's way after the ambush?  He wanted to ask, wanted to elaborate his theories, but that would mean letting Dorian in.  It would mean allowing the DRN to see the one thing he kept shuttered away tighter than a bank vault.  And that was one landmine John Kennex wasn't going to step on again.  
  
"So getting me out of the way.."  He had to say  _something_ about it.  He'd told Maldonado, of course.  It was something vital to the case.  "It's personal. Someone wants to keep me from fighting back.  Question is, how the hell am I gonna get back into the precinct on Christmas without getting caught?"  
  
Dorian smirked.  The fact that John had glossed over being fired, possibly going to jail for entering the precinct after being forbidden, or worse getting killed while off duty made Dorian wonder at just how safe it was to have John on the force.  Getting caught.  That seemed to be his only concern.  "You know it's protocol that I should caution you against such an endeavor."  He said softly.  But it wasn't a no.  And it wasn't a case of Dorian not helping John break into the precinct.  
  
"Noted."  John said dryly.  He turned and fixed his partner with a look.  "If you think you're gonna stop me, you're wrong.  Too many lives are at stake and I'm not gonna sit home and watch it on the news."  
  
Dorian nodded once.  "Just had to throw that out there, John.  If we survive this, and you don't get fired or put in prison, they'll probably gladly give you your job back."  
  
"Well aren't you just a bucket of rainbows and sunshine."

Dorian smiled sunnily and turned his attention back to the tree. “You don't have presents under the tree, John. It's two days before Christmas.”

John meanwhile, had turned away to begin the process of becoming more human and less caveman. He'd started for his room and the shower, though he wasn't sure he was going to bother shaving. Not for breaking into the precinct. Hell, he wasn't even going to bother doing much in the way of dress. No uniform. He still had his black fatigues from his military days. Deep in thought, he almost missed the comment, but the 'C' word pulled him from his musings. He paused at the door to his room and glanced back, eyes narrowed.

“Who the hell am I gonna buy for?” His gaze flitted across the tree before settling squarely upon Dorian, fixing him with the full-magnitude of his 'what the hell are you even saying?' expression. It wasn't quite the force of his 'freeze lava in hell' expression, but it was close. “I'm not married, no kids to speak of... and nobody on the force buys into the Secret Santa bullshit. What, you want a present, Dorian? What would I buy you?” He raised a brow, ready to work himself into a snit about the damned presents. “What would you buy me?” 

Dorian actually stopped to consider that. He didn't have an answer. He stayed below the precinct with the MXs when they 'slept.' He had a single locker that housed replacement uniforms when not in use. Dorian wanted for nothing and needed nothing. John, though... that was a... Dorian wasn't quite sure the colloquial term he wanted to use for John's current state.

“Well, I already have you listed on the dating site. Have you had any success with that? That might help with your... _situation.”_ He didn't gesture, but his gaze dropped toward John's shorts.

“Conversation. Over.” John growled, turning to head into his room. He'd been avoiding that site and anything to do with it, not wanting to deal with private sector dating. It was almost worse than dating a coworker, not that he wanted to do that, of course. He wouldn't think of Stahl. She was a coworker, even if she actually liked a good footie match. And bourbon. Nope. Denial was not just a river in Egypt, folks. He wouldn't think about her, or the mine field that being that close to her would be. 

Instead, John focused on what they'd need to get into the precinct and how best to overtake Insyndicate if that was, indeed, the plan. He could concentrate while he showered. He could force down the morose, depressed-as-shit side of himself and focus on the task at hand. John Kennex was a master at shoving things to the side and not dealing with them. His own mental stability (or lack thereof) could be momentarily ignored so that he could instead see things with an almost clinical clarity.

 

And he most certainly wouldn't think about the little boy in the hospital who would be scarred for life because he hadn't hesitated to pull the trigger.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The slow build and snark continue between Dorian and John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Just some little additions to help the story flow better. No major arc changes.

Chapter 2

 

_He was standing at the end of the alleyway. The first perp had vanished into the darkness between the buildings just moments before. He could still hear the distinct sound of footsteps splashing through the puddles that seemed ever-present in the dank darkness. Dorian had gone after the second perp, and would no doubt have his guy caught and collared before John had even found his. Not that it mattered. He wouldn't race to catch the guy, but he would catch him._

 

_Growling softly, he skirted along one of the dingy brick walls and sought to see through the gloom. It was near sunset, and the shadows had already taken over. His steps sounded ridiculously loud to his own ears, but he kept moving forward. On his two, he could hear the sound of someone panting, moving around. What the perp hadn't realized was this was John's old stomping ground. Kennex knew the neighborhood better than most._

 

_The alley was a dead end._

 

_Feeling a little more confident, John called out once. “Police! Come out with your hands up!”_

 

_The shot that rang out was his only answer. Kennex ducked, very nearly face-planting into a puddle of unknown origins. The ricochet from the bullet sent brick and mortar down into his hair, dusting him lightly. For as dark as it was, whoever the perp was, they were damned good at finding him. He narrowed his eyes and leaned a shoulder against the dumpster._

 

_Movement. Kennex honed in on it and aimed. “You're surrounded, asshole. Come out or I'm coming in. And you don't want that.” He warned. There was a second shot. It went wide, missing him completely. But it was clear that whoever it was, they weren't giving up._

 

_'It's now or never, Kennex,' he thought to himself. Lunging forward, he leapt to his feet and began advancing quickly and aimed, firing a little blindly. He had a rough guess as to where the perp was hiding and aimed. Firing in a quick succession, he managed to get three rounds off before he felt the impact to his prosthetic. There was a flash of light as the damage was registered by the internal server, which gave away his position, and John swore vehemently as he collapsed onto the pavement. The leg was useless to him now._

 

_But in that moment, the perp came out of the shadows. One small swath of light caught the shape as he advanced and John raised his gun._

 

_And fired._

 

_The perp crumpled at his feet and John lifted his flashlight from one of his many pockets. He shined it onto the form laid out before him like a sacrifice. It was a kid. A goddamned child. The face was peaceful, laying in the muck and god only knew what that littered the ground of the alley. Tawny curls framed the nearly cherubic face and John felt like vomiting._

 

_He'd shot a fucking child._

 

_He glossed over the fact that the kid had been shooting at him first and had completely trashed his prosthetic. The press and the precinct were going to have a fucking field day with the news. 'Detective Kennex, already unbalanced and off his fucking rocker, had shot and killed a kid.'_

 

_Slowly, he made his way closer to the small body. The kid looked to be ten, maybe twelve years old. He should have been full of life, not laying broken on the ground of some godforsaken alley in the middle of one of the rougher districts. He had to drag the fucking prosthetic behind him, and he grunted with the effort. Who knew that prosthetic legs could be so damned heavy when not in use?_

 

_He checked for a pulse and damned near sobbed in relief when he felt it. He closed his eyes and tapped his radio. “Kennex to Dispatch.. I got a 10-91. Send 10-52 to my GPS. Single gunshot wound.”_

 

_Kennex sagged against the dumpster and stared at the boy until the flashing red and blue lights of the ambulance could be seen. It was Dorian who...._

 

“John? John are you alright?” It was Dorian. 

He turned, blinking owlishly from where he'd been hunched over, holding his stomach. He had finished showering without even realizing he'd done it. He stood in the middle of the bathroom, using the sink as leverage to hold himself upright. A towel was secured around his waist and his skin was clammy. Jesus... how long had he been like that? He'd been reliving the night in question. 

“Fine. I'm fine.” He said gruffly, turning away to stalk past the DRN.

But Dorian, being who and what he was, knew better. “John, your blood pressure is up, your heart rate is through the roof and your stress just jumped to a dangerous level. Do we need to take you to get more medication?” He knew. Dorian knew he was taking the black market meds from the Recollectionist. He knew and he said nothing. 

John, jaw tight, shook his head. “No. I have plenty. I'll be fine, alright? Just another episode.” He blew it off, because that's all it was. If he had a damned hobby, they'd be less frequent. He knew that. But hobbies were for the happy and healthy. There really was nothing that held his interest anymore. Nothing but his job. It was the depression speaking, he knew that much. Hell, John was the textbook definition of what it meant to be depressed. He exhibited all the symptoms. One of his fears, albeit unspoken, had been being forced to remain home alone. He knew that he'd just crawl into bed one night and not leave it again. Fuck the world, he'd stay in bed. Thankfully, there was this damned case. And Dorian. Amazingly, his DRN kept him from losing his damned marbles.

He sighed and settled on the bed, still wearing the towel. He'd get dressed as soon as Dorian left the room. “We need to discuss the plan. But not here.” He gave Dorian a pointed look. “I'm getting dressed now.” 

Dorian blinked. “No you're not. You're sitting on the bed. And yes, we do need to discuss this. Both of our futures are dependent upon the success of this misguided mission of yours.”

The headache was getting worse. “No, I mean I'm going to _get_ dressed as soon as you leave.” John rubbed his nose and then jerked his chin toward the door that led into the main living area.

Dorian's mouth opened in a silent 'O' of understanding. He nodded and made an exit to await John's arrival. “And quit askin' me about my damned tree!” He called after the DRN, before pushing himself to stand. He made his way to his closet and stared at it for a full moment. It was painfully bare. His clothing hung on one side, while the other was utterly empty. _Her_ clothes had hung there. 

He'd deleted the message she'd recorded so very long ago. But he couldn't delete the memories that remained.

Shaking his head, he grabbed his clothes and shut the doors a little harder than necessary. He turned his back on the memories. On the loss and emptiness. The fact remained that she might be there awaiting him. And what would he do then? What _could_ he do? 

But finally, he was ready. He looked like he had during his time as a Ghost. Black from head to toe, he was spit-polished and ready to kick some ass. His boots made little sound on the hardwood floor as he closed in on Dorian. The DRN, well aware of his location and contemplating all possible scenarios, turned and stared.

“John, are we going in to help the precinct or take it over?” He asked, expression a little wary. It was amazing how expressive he was.

Kennex smirked and gave the question a moment's consideration. He knew what he was planning, but the idea of watching the DRN squirm under his scrutiny was totally worth it. Finally, when Dorian was starting to look a bit more concerned, the detective grinned. It wasn't a nice grin. “We're going in to help save the day, Dorian. Don't you worry your pretty head about that.” He chuckled darkly and turned to refill his coffee. “I need schematics, floor plans, possible entry and exit points. Everything.”

Dorian nodded, not-so-visibly relieved that John wasn't actually undergoing a complete and total mental breakdown before his eyes. While he was qualified to restrain and possibly hospitalize the detective, he didn't really want to have that responsibility on his shoulders. He walked over to John's computer and accessed it, uploading his information. 

“Alright. I have everything that you asked for here, here and here...” He tapped the holo-screen, bringing up each of John's requests. “I also have the schedule for the next three days. Who's to be on duty and who requested vacation. It looks like... oh.. oh that's not good.” 

“What? What's not good?” John turned, brows furrowing. He brought his cup over and set it on the counter, gazing over Dorian's shoulder. There, clear as schematics, were the names of those on duty for Christmas Eve. 

 

_Det. Stahl, Valerie._

_Capt. Maldonado, Sandra._

 

Both were scheduled to work. It was John's first Christmas working around Stahl, so he didn't know her tendencies, but the fact that both of the women were to be in the building when the majority of the force would be off with families and such. It didn't bode well. John pulled away from Dorian and gave him a look. 

“You know they'd never forgive us if he left 'em to suffer Insyndicate without us..”

Dorian nodded quietly. “You know protocol dictates I should warn both Detective Stahl and Captain Maldonado.” 

John sighed. “Yeah, and if you warn them, what then? What can they do, just the two of them? They'll need help.”

If they had advanced warning, they'd be anticipating John's arrival and probably toss his ass in jail while the entire precinct fell. John shook his head. “You can't, Dorian. This needs to be covert. Informing them would screw us.”

 

* * *

 

 

There wasn't much time, all told, to plan for something of that magnitude. Where Insyndicate had months to plot and plan and make certain they had all their I's dotted and T's crossed, John and Dorian were flying, essentially by the seat of their pants. They spent the remainder of the day plotting possibilities, only to have Dorian poke holes in John's ideas. Christmas eve-day didn't fare much better. Ultimately, the idea to sneak John into the precinct seemed to make the most sense.

Tucked into the trunk, which was an incredibly tight fit for John's 6'1” frame, the detective rode in cramped silence. His duffel bag of weaponry and armor sat in the back seat, and Dorian drove. To an outsider, it looked as though the DRN was heading into the precinct for the night to recharge. The dampener that lined the trunk blocked all signal from any wayward MX units that might scan the car. It would read empty, which was what they were counting on. The car would be parked underneath the building, giving Kennex the necessary route to make his way inside the building proper. And a well-timed alarm would sound and open the trunk for John to escape the confines of the trunk, grab his bag, and head inside.

It really was foolproof.

 

Which, of course, meant it was going to go to hell in a hand-basket the moment Dorian entered the parking lot. 

They'd waited until twilight on Christmas Eve, hoping that they'd get in before Insyndicate did. And before Stahl did. What they hadn't anticipated was the possibility of human error on Stahl's part. She was pulling into the parking lot and parking when Dorian was, leaving the DRN stuck talking to the detective while Maldonado and a skeleton crew of MX's were left alone in the upper floors. 

As the alarm had been set on a timer, it went off while Stahl was still talking to Dorian. The hood popped up, revealing a very cramped and grouchy-looking Kennex. He winced at the sudden rush of light and caught sight of not one, but two pairs of eyes, watching him. 

Shit. 

“Detective Stahl...” John started as he clambered out of the trunk, very nearly falling out on his ass. He cursed softly at the lack of space and the fact that he'd had to have been there, essentially for nothing.

“John? You're on suspension. You're not supposed to be here.” She said softly.

He sighed, gaze darting to Dorian's for a moment before settling on Stahl. “Yeah, about that..” 

Stahl was no idiot, though. She turned to Dorian and settled a rather accusatory glare his direction. “You brought him, Dorian. What were you thinking? They're going to decommission you when they find out.”

Dorian gave John an apologetic look and shrugged, before explaining the patterns he'd found, what they'd postulated and what they were planning. It was almost better, he explained, that she knew. It meant that she could warn Maldonado and have them all in the loop so they could overtake anyone they came across. In theory. They could, in effect, be better prepared should something actually happen. To which Stahl very pragmatically reminded the men that if it turned out to be nothing of the sort, John would very likely wind up both losing his job _and_ having his ass tossed in jail. It surprised both Stahl and Dorian that John was so willing to pay that price.

But then, everything worked in theory. It was the practical use of the theory where everything went to shit. At least, that was John's experience.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And action! Expect violence, bloodshed and more snark to come!

Chapter 3

 

 

Amazingly, Stahl had agreed to put her career and, possibly, her life on the line to act on the gung-ho plan laid out by the men. She agreed to inform Maldonado of Dorian's suspicions, knowing that the Captain would be more apt to listen to both Stahl and Dorian. The smaller detective then gave them a canny look and shook her head. 

“You two are planning to single-handedly go up against Insyndicate. You have no concrete proof outside of a pattern that they're even going to act tonight.” It wasn't a question and the tone of voice was clearly disbelieving of both the success and sanity of the pair's plot. She wasn't sure, in that moment whether she pitied the men, or she thought them possibly touched in the head. It was probably a little of both. But, helping them out would endear her to the enigmatic Kennex. In the end, was it even worth it, though? She respected the hell out of him, so it was a bit of a moot point. Prior to the ambush and loss of his partner, Kennex had been one of the best in the field. He'd turned down promotions to remain a Detective. It had been rumored that both the CIA and FBI had courted him. 

But John was loyal to a fault. He'd proven that with the fiasco involving the murder of Detective Cooper. And for that, Stahl knew she would do her utmost to live up to his standards. Was it a touch too much hero worship? Perhaps. But every good detective needed someone to look up to. They needed someone who seemed nearly untouchable by corruption that they could model themselves after. Someone who would do everything in their power to ensure those around them stayed safe and alive. And she hadn't forgotten the lengths he and Maldonado had gone to bring her back after the Avery clones had kidnapped her. 

John had had the decency to look a little sheepish, though he was far more thankful to be out of that damned trunk. It had been far too cramped for his liking. The smell had been a little off, though he'd smelled far worse. _Paul's feet,_ he silently mused and smirked. 

“Do I want to know what you're thinking, John?” Dorian asked, looking a little disturbed by John's expression. 

He shook his head, smirk vanishing. “No. We need to get in to the building. Stahl, you need to report as expected. Maldonado is waiting for you. And right now, the less she knows about my presence, the better. We really just want to get in, figure out what they want and get out again.” 

Both Dorian and Stahl gave him a look. It was _never_ that easy. He rolled his eyes. “Alright, we want to get in, kill as many of them as we can, try not to destroy the building and get out alive.” He blinked and returned the look. “Better?” 

Dorian grinned, nodding and Stahl mirrored the action. He rolled his eyes again. “Unbelievable...” Turning, he made for the backseat of the patrol car, grabbing his rucksack. Once it was over his shoulder, he started for the entrance that he and Dorian had chosen to be their starting point. He stopped once and gave Stahl a surprisingly sober look. “Be careful in there, alright? We have no idea what to expect. We don't even know that they're going to hit tonight. This could all have been completely misunderstood and I'll wind up getting my ass thrown in jail.”

She nodded, offering a shy smile. Good man, good cop. He would take care of his own until his dying breath. “I'll be careful, John. You too. Oh..” She dug into her messenger bag (because purses were too small and she kept everything in her messenger bag) and pulled out several sheets of paper. “I think you two might actually be right on this. I really do. I talked more with Jacob.” Which was why she'd been late getting to the precinct. 

“Jacob?” John asked, brow furrowing. He accepted the papers as she handed them over and glanced them over. They were clearly a written statement. He skimmed over what had been written. It was her elegant script, and at the bottom was what appeared to be a young boy's signature.

Stahl nodded. “Yeah. The boy. Without any visitors, he's gotten lonely in the hospital. I guess he expected them to come visit and rescue him.” She didn't need to explain who _them_ was. John nodded. “And since it was just me going to see him every day, he finally opened up to me. Told me what they'd done to him. To the others.” She didn't mention the fact that as close to Christmas as it was, it was breaking her heart that no one had been in to see him. 

John sighed softly, pinching his nose. “Like they do to the kids in the Middle East? Brainwash and train 'em early, make 'em believe that they're doing what they're doing for the greater good?” She nodded and his expression darkened. “Do we know how many there are?” 

“Not really, no. They're like little sleeper cells. No one knows about the other. The kids are all brought in individually.” She made a face. “They'll kidnap several at a time, but they're 'trained' separately. Jacob knew there were other children, but nothing about them personally.” 

It made sense. The boy had no doubt heard the other kids, but without faces, they couldn't identify anyone. “Was he able to identify any of the adults who 'trained' him?” John asked quietly.

Again, Stahl shook her head. “He was drugged and they all wore those white face masks. He said he knew some were women and some were men, but not enough to be able to pick them out in a line-up.” 

Frustration burned bright in John's chest. Damn. Without that, they were still unable to finger anyone in the organization. He wanted to ask if Jacob had seen anyone with hair like Anna's, but she would have changed it. Two years. Surely in that time, she would have done something different to make herself less noticeable. And he didn't want to bring up his affiliation with someone who operated on the inside. Not to Stahl. He skimmed the boy's report, and then tucked it into his rucksack, nodding. “Alright. You get inside. Don't want you late. You'll wind up with a reputation like mine.” 

Stahl chuckled and nodded. “Alright. Be careful, boys. I'll see you on the inside.” 

He didn't watch her go in. He didn't watch her disappear behind the door. He did, however, have to endure the ribbing by Dorian. “Be careful, John.” The DRN chirped, mimicking the brunette detective. It was creepy and eerie and John turned to give him a look. 

“Don't do that. Ever.” He waved a hand and rolled his eyes, disturbed by just how easily Dorian read them both. “Just don't. That's creepy.” 

Dorian laughed softly and followed John through the service entrance. They'd need to climb several flights of stairs before they reached the main floor. Avoiding the elevator was an unfortunate necessity. At the first flight of stairs, the DRN piped up. “Hey John, this is just like the Sanderson building!”

John snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Let's hope the same shit doesn't happen here. We don't need to deal with that.”

Dorian paused at the first landing, blue lights flickering along his cheek as he processed something outside of their sphere. John, not hearing Dorian immediately behind him, stopped and turned. “What?”

“John, I'm getting emergency calls. They're coming into the precinct.” The DRN furrowed a brow, listening to each call that came in.

“Yeah, so, this building does house Dispatch.” And those unlucky bastards were going to be working. Much like the beat cops. 

“No, you don't understand. These calls are coming from both beat cops and civilians. I'm getting reports of officers going down and MX's being disabled.” He blinked, eyes widening. It was clear that both of their worst fears were quickly being confirmed. His voice took on a slightly astonished tone. “They're starting already, John. Something's going on outside. Region Gamma is reporting widespread violence. John, they're not just hitting here. They're hitting _everywhere.”_

 

* * *

 

 

And they truly were. All over the city, beat cops were being systematically distracted from their duties. Young, seemingly innocent children were stopping the uniforms to ask for help. Lost and needing help finding their parents, ran away from home and needed help, someone was chasing them; the list was endless. And in each one, the child pulled the beat cop away from where they'd been patrolling. They escorted the young child to their requested destination, as per protocol, only to be overtaken by an awaiting member of Insyndicate, where the beat cops met a grisly demise. And the few who attempted to just return the child to a car or to the precinct to locate parent or guardian, were tazered by the child. It was a brutally efficient attack. Calculated. Clearly it had been well-planned.

It was standard procedure that had an MX unit partnered with a cop, regardless of their rank. They'd made it mandatory following the fabled Ambush, _Case #34P-C91244_ , two years prior. When an anonymous call was picked up by dispatch, it set off a chain reaction. Somewhere within Region Delta, a pulse was activated, disabling the active MX units on the spot. They dropped as though an unseen puppeteer had cut the strings, leaving them impotent and empty-eyed wherever they happened to fall. 

The emergency calls doubled. And then they tripled. Soon the lines were overwhelmed with panicked citizens, calling about the disabled MX units and the cops themselves, forced to work on Christmas Eve. Whatever was happening, it was happening fast. 

And that's when the device was detonated in City Region Beta's Precinct. Undermanned and utterly at the mercy of Insyndicate's bloodthirsty wrath, the precinct and all within were reduced to little more than a smoking crater in the earth. 

Panic reached epic proportions on both a civilian and law enforcement level.

 

* * *

 

 

John, staring wide-eyed at Dorian and listened to what he could before word came across about City Region Beta's demise. “Son of a bitch. We gotta go. _Now!”_ He turned, not even bothering to wait for Dorian and took the stairs two at a time. He was thankful he'd thought enough to put his prosthetic on the charger overnight. He was going to need all the strength it could give him. 

They reached the stairwell door and John practically ripped it open. He didn't care anymore about his damned career. Or his freedom. They hadn't gotten word about City District Alpha, or Gamma beyond the widespread violence. He wasn't going to take the chance that Delta was next to be decimated. He could hear Dorian behind him as they bolted toward Maldonado's office. 

And then he skidded to a stop. Dorian damned near plowed him down, but managed to catch himself before they both spilled out onto the bullpen floor. The MX units lay like broken bodies about the large, open room. And standing outside of Maldonado's office on the landing overlooking the bullpen, were both Stahl and Maldonado. John recognized a couple of the beat cops that were assigned to Delta, that were kneeling alongside the two women. 

Hostages. 

Pacing around the desks of the bullpen were several white masked individuals. They were clearly heavily armed. Maldonado looked _pissed._  

“It's Christmas Eve,” she was saying. The vein in her forehead was visible even from the distance John and Dorian were from their gathering.

“And we'll welcome in the new year with a New World Order.” One of the white masks told her. The smirk was evident in the voice. 

John turned, meaning to gesture to Dorian. To have him circle around so that they could take out the white masks. But they weren't alone. He opened his mouth to warn Dorian, who was turning to see what it was John was looking at. John knew he wouldn't be fast enough to disable the white mask, but Dorian was inhuman in his speed and strength. Moving quickly, Dorian subdued the attacker, though not before being shot with an electromagnetic device. 

As the DRN fell limp and useless beside the white mask, John moved to unmask the person. He could use that information later, though knowing Insyndicate, they'd either alter his appearance or kill him outright. He'd seen too many mutilated bodies with Insyndicate markings floating along the river or in shallow graves. There were always replacements that would fill the place of those left behind. 

John shook Dorian, growling softly. He had to be careful, though. They were still too close to the epicenter to give themselves away. “C'mon, Dorian, wake up..” 

But it was to no avail. Dorian had missed the pulse that had disabled the MX units, due to his unique physiology and makeup. But not the electromagnetic burst that had been delivered. He sighed softly and tried to drag the DRN into one of the nearby offices. If they didn't blow the building all to hell, at least Dorian would be safe. Sweaty and exhausted, because the DRN was damned heavy, John slipped back out and started back toward his vantage point. They'd gone undetected, which was a minor miracle. But how much time he had to act was another story. 

Moving quickly, he kept as close to the shadows as he could and set his rucksack down behind a stand of fake plants. For probably the first time, Kennex found himself thankful that some idiot had thought it pleasant to use the bushy fake plants. He hated them, normally. Dust magnets and they generally housed families of spiders. But for the moment, they gave him the needed cover for him to pull out his sidearm and his spare. Locked and loaded, he judged the situation, trying to find the weakest point. He'd need to draw the fire to give the others time to get away and get armed. And while he didn't really feel like being shot, it was pretty much a foregone conclusion. 

There...

He watched two of the white masks as they moved. There was an opening that he could take advantage of, and even use one or both of the white masks as shields should the others open fire. And they would, he was sure.

Moving quickly, he couldn't afford to truly think, and he took out first one and then the other. Single shots, to their backs, and the two white masks went down. At that moment, he didn't care if he killed anyone wearing a white mask. They were doing what they could to decimate the law enforcement in the city. They deserved what they got. He used one of the bodies as a shield and fired on a third white mask. 

But at the reports of gunfire, they flooded the room. He'd sorely underestimated their forces in the building. Figuring the organization to be predictable and leave the bomb in Delta, destroying it too, he hadn't anticipated them actually using it as a base of operations. He was overwhelmed quickly. Fire and sharp pain bloomed along his side, and shoulder. Hits. Damn it. His prosthetic screeched again, registering damage. He shoved the body-shield away from himself and awaited his demise. 

That was when he saw _her._ She was even more gorgeous than his memory could have supplied. Light mocha skin that seemed to glow from within was framed by soft, dark curls. She'd changed her hair. He blinked, realizing he was probably going to bleed out from the wounds. But that didn't matter. None of it mattered. He'd failed. They were going to take over and he'd done nothing more than give them another dead body to take away. His eyes narrowed. John didn't have words to express his betrayal. She'd set him up to die and then left him when he needed her most. Advancing slowly, she carried what looked like a semi-automatic pistol. Beautiful and deadly. 

And then she smiled. And it was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. “Hello again, John. You look good for a dead man.” Her voice was lyrical and mesmerizing. Meanwhile, John was fighting to stay upright and not slip in the blood pooling beneath him. But he found he was slipping away due to blood loss and shock, and he questioned his sanity. Though, he didn't question it for long. The one soul who had haunted his dreams almost as much as watching Pelham die over and over was slowly advancing on him.

And before he lost consciousness, the bitch belted him across the face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Sorry for the delay on this bad boy. Between holidays and whatnot, story kinda took a backseat. This chapter's a bit shorter, but you'll see why upon reading. Next chapter, shit's about to get real. Enjoy. 
> 
> As always, Unbeta'd.. so any errors (grammar and tense and such) are mine. Thanks for the reviews and the kudos! And happy new year!!
> 
> Update: Just a few minor changes to help the chapter flow a bit better.

Chapter 4

 

 

_City District Beta_

 

The smoke swirled lazily toward the sky, mingling with the ever-present haze that hung just beneath the clouds. It seemed to contrast the absolute chaos below with the way it moved so peacefully in the air. Beneath, a crater had formed where once Beta Precinct had called home. They'd find the bodies of those few who had been unlucky enough to have to work that fateful night, but not until morning. The sun had finally set, and the eerie glow from the remaining fires wouldn't be enough for any of the fire and rescue teams to go searching. That and the buildings that surrounded the precinct were being watched for their stability. They'd been evacuated, as per protocol, and the people rounded up and taken elsewhere to stay. But it really was anyone's guess as to whether they'd collapse after the shockwave had leveled the police building.

Sparks and flashes of electricity lit the night like a strobe. Unfortunately, being Christmas Eve, the Con-Ed men were off celebrating with their families. There was no one to shut off the electricity that threatened anyone who ventured near to the building. And while the firefighters were dressed in their traditional attire that would keep them safe from the worst of the electrocution, none wanted to venture in very far. Not after they'd lost one of the cadaver dogs to a cave-in. And perhaps it was a bit selfish by those who were forced to stare at the wreckage, but there was a bit of relief that settled over them when they couldn't readily see blood or broken bodies.

Unfortunately, the surrounding area wasn't faring any better. Several of the beat cops who had been lucky enough not to be in the building during the attack had been lured to their doom by the hands of the children. Innocent, fresh-faced and utterly evil, the children had acted almost as one entity. Though, in essence, they had. Acting on a single signal, they spread out like tiny spiders intent upon catching their next meal. And each unsuspecting police officer would fall prey. After all, who would deny a child?

Chaos, madness, violence; it was everywhere. It seemed that with the downfall of City Precinct Beta, the looters had come out of the woodwork. With every step the remaining law enforcement made toward containing the chaos, it seemed the citizens of the city dragged them back another ten. And when word got out that it was children leading the doomed officers to their demise, those who hadn't been led astray banded together. They couldn't, in good conscience, shoot a child. But it didn't take long to begin catching the kids and tossing them in the backs of patrol cars, holding them until they could figure out where to contain them. 

No one knew what was coming next. Would another precinct building be hit? Districts Alpha and Gamma were evacuated, but contact with Delta had been lost. No one answered the radios, it was as if no one was home. Though that couldn't have been further from the truth. As painfully undermanned as they were, it was tossed back and forth as to whether anyone would venture toward Delta to see what had happened. Though it didn't take long to begin calling back into action those beat cops and detectives who had been given Christmas Eve off. 

 

* * *

 

 

It was perfect. The unified white masks milled about Delta Precinct, listening to the panicked chatter over the police radios while armed to the teeth. Every channel was lit up with a new tragedy. Death, destruction and chaos, all of which covered what it was they truly wanted. The bulk of the troops had descended below into the bowels of the building, seeking out the evidence vault. Which was why they hadn't immediately put a bullet into the skulls of those who had shown up for work.

And at the center of the chaos sat the self-proclaimed Goddess, herself. Smug in her power, Anna sat proudly in Maldonado's office overseeing the medical care of the one person she hadn't wanted to see in the precinct. She should have known better than to expect Kennex to avoid showing up. Asshole was both predictable and persistent. He put his own health and well-being beneath that of everyone around him, no matter how little they actually deserved the care. And as a price for his insolence, he lay bound and unconscious on the floor, being patched up by one of her men.

Sadly, that had actually been the one thing that had nearly blown her cover. His devotion to everyone around him. It was commendable and had actually made her question her duties to Insyndicate. He'd shown her what it truly meant to love and be loved, meanwhile she took what she could from him for the sole purpose of undermining the law enforcement officials of the City. Anything to further Insyndicate's cause. And when she'd learned of the ambush, she'd almost not informed her superiors. 

Almost.

But ultimately, duty overrode her baser desires. In that respect, she and Kennex were reflections of one another. Her devotion to her cause was the one thing that propelled her forward. Just as it had for John. The only difference between the two was his morality. John's innate sense of right and wrong kept him from truly being able to be the right sort of monster for her. Though it broke her heart a little. In her own, albeit twisted, way she had loved him. And watching him suffer for her cause had effectively ceased any chance that she would find her way back to his side. 

For a time, she'd thought him dead. And then one of her minions had informed her that not only had he survived, but he remained in a coma in the hospital. She'd visited once. Undercover. And then never again. Seeing him so vulnerable, it had been too easy to contemplate finishing the job. And the realization that she _could_ kill him without regret had driven her further away. Perhaps she should have. But she didn't. 

Deep in thought while she watched them using the programmable DNA to repair his wounds, she almost missed the call from her men. She'd leave Kennex with her second and take the Captain down herself. Maldonado would be able to open the vault with her keycode. She smiled at the dark haired captain, ignoring the way both women glared at her. Oh, she hadn't missed the way the younger detective had cried out when Kennex went down. A glaring weakness on the woman's character. Clearly, there was something possibly between Kennex and the detective. Something possibly worth exploiting. She stayed behind. 

At Anna's side, bound and held at gunpoint, Maldonado was walked toward the elevators. “You won't get away with this.” She said softly, dark eyes narrow and full of venom. 

Anna smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. Empty and nearly devoid of humanity, those eyes fixed on the captain. “We've had all year to plan for this. And from the sounds of it, not only will we succeed, but there won't be a police force left to stop us.” 

Maldonado, ever the detective, attempted to talk her way through to the root of the plan. “Why? Why this precinct? What are you hoping to find here?” 

One perfectly formed brow arched and Anna smirked. “Not find. Found. And there's no reason I need to tell you anything. You open the vault. End of story.” 

Which, of course, meant one thing. If she opened the vault, she and everyone else would die.

 

* * *

 

 

Elsewhere, in the precinct, a familiar pair of unnaturally blue eyes flickered to life and a system began rebooting.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting into the nitty-gritty of the action now. Violence, bloodshed and angst abound!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, folks. As per usual, I own nothing. All errors are mine as it's still unbeta'd. Hope you enjoy it! Reviews are love!

Chapter 5

 

 

She wasn't a victim, though she could portray one with ease. Maldonado was simply careful. Watch the enemy, judge their strengths and weaknesses and when they least expect it, exploit them. She would lure them away from Stahl and the incapacitated Kennex to let them spread out and work their magic. She'd given Stahl a few non-verbal cues, hoping like hell the young detective caught what she was attempting to convey. She hadn't made Captain without totally blindsiding many an assuming man. They saw weakness in her soft, brown eyes. They didn't see the core of absolute badass that she kept hidden. And why should they? They were all on the same side. But Maldonado wasn't one to go flaunting her skills. 

Unless she had to. 

And in this case, she needed every trick and tactic she had available to her. So she walked calmly, bound and ever observant and listened to what wasn't being said. To the radios as they crackled to life with each and every report of violence and bloodshed outside the precinct walls. Divide and conquer. 

She hadn't told Kennex that she'd been compiling a file on the absent ex-lover based on suspicions. She hadn't told Kennex that during his coma she'd collected DNA in his apartment that brought up a file that would have been nearly an inch thick had she printed it out on paper. It had been better to let him believe that Anna was well and truly gone. Or so she thought. But if Anna was going to allow her minions to heal John, to let him watch before he died - or worse - well, who was she to stop John from learning all she had on the bitch?

Maldonado had noted the decided absence of Dorian. The DRN had either fallen behind (which would screw them horribly) or he was waiting for the opportune moment. She truly hoped it was the latter. With the Insyndicate forces pulled into different parts of the building, Dorian would be a very valuable asset for them. 

She was thankful that the dark haired bitch had underestimated her. Just as everyone did. Avery came to mind and she fought to keep the knowing smirk from lifting her lips. Avery had misjudged her, calling her weak and easily overlooked. For the moment, she could do little save for being led away from the bullpen and her office. But she really hoped that the universe wouldn't screw them too badly. _Let Dorian find them and keep them safe,_ she prayed silently.

 

* * *

 

 

Soft blue lights flickered throughout a darkened office. They danced and spidered along an impassive, dark eyed face, while systems rebooted and rerouted for maximum efficiency. The electromagnetic shock to the system had fried several synthetic synapses. Relays would need to be replaced, but there was enough for the auxiliary systems to be able to function without too much delay. Slowly, life returned to the DRN's face, eyes flickering from black to unnatural blue, and Dorian pushed himself to sitting. 

He was a little twitchy, systems still flickering wildly, which wasn't quite right. And there were still damaged bits that weren't quite ready to function correctly. Still, the probability of his failure was considerably less than a human in perfect health. Dorian ran through his processes, and brought up the last few memories. The white mask that had descended upon them and John's reaction immediately replayed. Knowing John, the detective would have been the one responsible for pulling him out of sight. And then he would have thrown himself into the fray to distract the Insyndicate Operatives until he could be of use again. 

But considering he had rebooted alone, and a rather considerable amount of time had passed, it was clear that Kennex had not been successful. He should have had Rudy staring down at him, working through the fried and damaged bits of his system. Were he human, Dorian would have cursed Kennex's impulsiveness. But he wasn't. Dorian was running silently, and going through every probability. Anything that wouldn't result in success was quickly cast aside. Only when he was certain he could succeed, did he move. 

So, weapon in hand, Dorian slipped from the office and made his way down the hallway toward the bullpen to see what had happened during his incapacitation. On a human, the expression he wore would have been one of grim determination. On the DRN, it was simply his running face.

 

* * *

 

 

John was somewhere beyond livid. There weren't words to describe just how pissed he was that he'd been overpowered so easily. He'd awakened in an agony the likes of which he'd never before encountered, not even awakening from the coma. And he wasn't alone. Stahl, looking a little worse for wear, knelt next to him. 

It was clear that she'd put up a bit of a fight based on the bruising on her face, and it was something he'd missed upon first observing the scene. She didn't smile, it was clear that her split lip prevented her from doing much, but she nodded once. She was alright. They'd need to be careful. Glancing around, he realized they were in Maldonado's office, though the Captain wasn't in sight.

 

Neither was Anna.

 

He took stock, the two white masks that were guarding the door; and the others that milled about with the various detectives and suits out in the bullpen. He'd been relieved of weaponry, and it took a second to realize that he'd had his wounds tended to. Odd. He'd expected them to let him bleed out. Though, he found he couldn't immediately complain. They hadn't even removed his prosthetic. Had Anna not known about it to remove it? It was an unexpected gift. 

Sitting up, he kept his movements slow and took stock of the healing injuries on his person. There was no need to rouse the ire of the armed White masks, or reopen wounds. They were being watched and he didn't know how much Stahl had been able to relay to Maldonado before they'd arrived. It was almost as though she was reading his mind. 

Her voice was barely a breath while she huddled closer to him. To an outsider, it appeared she was seeking comfort from him. Though the truth of the matter was actually quite different. “I was able to get to the Captain before they ambushed us. Told them some of what Dorian told me. She was taking the woman down to the Evidence Vault.” The woman. _Anna._ He nodded once and she gestured to his body. “She was adamant that they fix you up so you could watch.” 

Watch. That didn't bode well. 

He furrowed a brow, continuing the charade of offering comfort and let her help him sit up further. The Evidence Vault. They were still after whatever it was they'd made an attempt for the first time. Interesting. He had no doubt that Maldonado would be able to handle her own, and he could see that there were fewer white masks than there had been. First things first, though, he needed to disable the two inside the office without injuring those outside. The only thing they had going for them, at that moment, was the fact that Maldonado's office was bullet-proof. And the door was closed.

Glancing once at Stahl, he could see she was plotting too. He wanted to smirk at the clear message she was trying to convey with her eyes. She was spending too much time with Maldonado. And in that moment, he couldn't have been more thankful. She nodded imperceptibly and moved to stand, holding both hands out. To the white masks, she looked wounded and helpless. “Please,” she said softly, imploring them. “He needs water. Can I get him a bottle of water?” 

Looking the part of an invalid, which wasn't all that hard, John settled back. It gave him a bit of an advantage. The two white masks fell for her ploy (amazingly) and turned toward her to argue getting a bottle of water to the detective. Neither wanted to allow her to leave, and neither wanted to leave the office to get the water for the man. 

John kept watch, and waited til the pair were focused on Stahl. And then he moved. It hurt. There weren't words to describe the pain that flared through his body. But he was up and moving almost as soon as they focused on the small brunette. Taking the chance that they'd open fire on the pair, he launched himself at the first white mask. Stahl, as slight as she was, took the second. When all was said and done, Kennex swore he'd take her out for a drink to celebrate just how deadly and efficient she was. But for the moment, they had other concerns. His white mask put up a fight, earning himself a broken neck for his trouble. John growled, dropping the body. He turned to assist Stahl, and marveled as she was lowering the second down to the floor. 

Of course, that was when the bullpen floor became a field of chaos. John glanced out, and spied Dorian. Dorian, who had been incapacitated and was now laying waste the remaining white masks. Dorian, who was making his way toward the hostages kneeling on the floor. He nodded grimly and opened the door to the office, letting Stahl exit first. “They have Maldonado. They're going down below to the Evidence Vault.” 

Dorian nodded and looked off and away. John had no doubt he was accessing the mainframe. “I'll scramble the code for as long as I can. But we need to scramble and get down there. She can't take them alone.” He then turned to Kennex to assess the injuries. They'd been tended to and none were life-threatening. The detective was pumped, adrenaline surging through his system. But he was well within the realm of safety. “Did they tend to your wounds, John?” 

John nodded, wanting to ignore his own well-being, and limped toward the large, fake plant. He pulled out his rucksack, dragging it across the floor so he could retrieve his weapons and load himself for war. “Let's do this.” 

With the small army of detectives and those who had been working in the building proper, Kennex felt like they maybe stood a chance catching up to Maldonado and maybe even finding an end to the Insyndicate nightmare. 

Or so he could hope.


End file.
